


The Blue Room

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [101]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 38 lifetimes, 38 lifetimes fic, AU, Alternate Universe, Chicago, F/M, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17359160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: In this particular AU, Tom still comes to Chicago that fateful January weekend in 2015. He and Carmen still meet but it doesn't quite go as well as the first time.





	The Blue Room

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Overachievers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467890) by [missdibley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley). 



Waiting for Tom in his hotel room was a gift basket. Full of Chicago-centric items like caramel & cheese popcorn, a shaker of celery salt in a nod to the city’s famous hot dog, and a small bottle of Koval gin, it contained also a handwritten note:

> _ Looking forward to supper tonight, and hearing your thoughts on the library. Warmest of welcomes to the Windy City.  
>  H. Jahn. _

Tom flopped down in the middle of his king size bed, dimly aware that the curtains had been drawn to reveal its expensive view of Lake Michigan, and closed his eyes for a brief nap.

Tom had never been to Chicago before, had never met the enigmatic architect who had invited him for the weekend. Tom was set to play him in a film that had long been in the planning, so this was a cause for celebration. But was that the reason why he felt so restless?

Or was it the little snow globe that rested, safe and secure, at the bottom of Tom’s backpack?

When he woke up from his nap, grabbed a quick shower and dressed for dinner, Tom retrieved the little dome and turned it over in his hands. A lavender mouse and a grey bear, clasping hands and waving in a swirl of clear water and silver glitter. [It had materialized in his refrigerator days ago, with a cryptic note and a slice of banoffee pie.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653450/chapters/10614756) What, if anything, did it all mean? The globe must have been a reference to the library he had toured that morning, the architect’s newest creation in Chicago. On the web page Tom found, it was described thusly:

> _ The Joe and Rika Mansueto Library opened at the heart of the University of Chicago campus in 2011. It features a soaring elliptical glass dome capping a 180-seat Grand Reading Room, state-of-the-art conservation and digitization laboratories, and an underground high-density automated storage and retrieval system.  _

They had the dome in common at least. Tom was a little dismayed to find sign of neither bear nor mouse at the library. No friendly, furry face waiting for him in the sunny reading room.  Just students and professors and librarians. The group of elderly alumni donors who he joined for the tour. Eleven in all, and though it was a friendly group, Tom couldn’t help feeling as though something, or someone, was missing.

Before he got further into his muddle, the phone on his bedside table rang. It was the front desk, calling to say that the venerable H. Jahn was waiting for him in the hotel restaurant.

* * *

The dining room and the food were both minimal and elegant, which gave Tom and the architect little to distract from their conversation. About buildings, boats (the architect was in possession of several yachts that he raced on the lake every summer), and books. They were deep into a discussion about their favorite translations of  _ The Iliad _ when a loud, braying sort of laugh cut through the soft din.

The architect frowned, then consulted his watch. “It must be getting late. The clubbier types tend to begin their evenings here…”

“Whereas we are just ending it.” Tom gave the architect a conspiratorial grin.

“Apologies, young man, but I have an early flight to Singapore in the morning.” When the architect arose, Tom popped up as well. “Pleasure to meet you, Thomas. My assistant will be happy to guide you around town tomorrow to look at some of the other projects.”

Tom made a small bow. “Sir, you honor me. I can only hope to do you justice.”

The architect smiled. “I always wanted to be over six feet tall.” His eyes grazed the top of Tom’s head. “And now it seems at least that my wish might come true.”

Tom followed the architect out, and was about to turn right to take the lift back to his own room when he felt someone grab him at the elbow.

“You’re not him, are you?”

The questioner was a busty redhead whose hair fell in thick curls down to her shoulders. Dressed to go out in a sparkly top and tight dark jeans, she clutched a wallet and iPhone in the hand that wasn’t gripping Tom’s arm.

Tom couldn’t help grinning flirtatiously. He’d had a few whiskeys at dinner, so he was feeling a bit game. “Who am I not supposed to be?”

“Tom…” The woman frowned. “Middleton?”

“Well,” Tom drawled, “The Duchess of Cambridge was formerly known as Kate Middleton.”

“Any relation?”

“No,” Tom said, half apologetically. “But I did go to school with her husband.”

“Really?” She burbled excitedly. When Tom nodded, she smiled. “Please, if you could…”

“Tom,” he replied. “Hiddleston.”

“Of course!” She released his elbow to clap him on the back. “Hiddleston! Loki, only you don’t have that long black mullet.”

“Afraid not.” Tom ran his hand slowly through the curls that crowned the top of his head.

“Oh, don’t be sorry! She’ll be ecstatic.” Blinking she offered her hand to shake. “Annie Solomon.”

“So who will be ecstatic?” Tom queried.

“Oh, if you could…” Annie gestured behind her. “It’s my friend’s thing and, she’s just the biggest fan of yours.”

“My pleasure,” Tom said. “Lead the way.”

Down a dim corridor was a private dining room, where a long table had been set for twelve. The plates had long been cleared away, but half empty bottles of Champagne and lipstick-smudged flutes were scattered about. The guests were milling about, fluffing their hair and talking about where they were planning to go next.

“Hey Carmen!” Annie cried out.

Tom stood just behind Annie, not wanting to deny her the reveal of himself.

“What!” A playful voice rang out. A voice that then hiccuped, then laughed before hiccuping again, and all of a sudden Tom felt like a bubble just popped in his belly. It took him by surprise, but it made him feel good and warm inside. He always did like meeting fans.

“I’ve got someone here who’s just dying to meet you…” Annie stepped aside, and waved her arms at him. “Ta da!”

Tom took a breath, and smiled. It was good that he took the breath, because he just as quickly stopped breathing.

The woman coming toward him was perfectly fine looking. Pretty, even. She was heavy, heavier than the sort of girl Tom usually went for, but she wore it well. She looked Asian, with dark eyes that sparkled under the glow of the rather lurid chandelier that hung from the middle of the ceiling. The dark blue dress she wore didn’t have a low-cut neck or a short skirt, but Tom found his gaze drawn to the way the skirt twirled around her knees. His eyes found her small, full lips, the black curls that trailed over her shoulders. When Tom saw that she had a smattering of freckles on her cheeks, he felt glad. As if he knew they would be there. But how could he feel that way, consoled and immediately comfortable in the presence of a stranger?

“Dude.” He looked up at the sound of her voice, finding her chocolate brown eyes flashing at him in playful annoyance. Her lips curled in a tiny smile. “My eyes are up here.”

“Oh. Erm.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Tom.”

“No, you’re not.” She peered over his shoulder at Annie. “Nice try, bitch.”

“Who’s the bitch?” Annie threw an arm over Tom’s shoulder. “You should be thanking me. Who else but your best friend goes out and finds your number one crush…?”

“You can’t be Tom!” Carmen threw her hands up in the air.

“Oh, but I am!” Tom insisted.

“Prove it!” Carmen challenged him. “What’s your middle name?”

“William.”

“Where did you go to university?”

“Cambridge.”

“Big deal,” snorted Carmen. “Tell me something only you would know.”

“Well, short of telling you where I live,” Tom began. “Maybe I can show you my passport?”

Carmen remained skeptical, tutting away at Annie and at their friends who had come over to see what the fuss was. While they loudly said that he was awfully hot in the un-self conscious way of drunk women everywhere, Tom produced his passport for the inspection of all.

Carmen gave it a brief, almost perfunctory glance before she passed it to the others. Her own gaze on Tom was steady as they began to squeal in recognition and realization. The smile on her face wavered, but never completely faltered. For himself, Tom couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop smiling. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he didn’t entirely care.

“Here ya go.” Annie pressed his passport back at him.  _ “Tom.” _

“Carmen,” Tom said. “It’s nice to meet you.” He glanced around the room. “All of you.”

One of the ladies stepped out of the group, her green eyes sly as she looked Tom over. “You single, Tom?” She asked with a toss of her blonde hair.

Before Tom could stutter out a non-reply, he noticed Carmen’s cheeks flushing. She looked flustered, and it bothered him that she did.

“Lay off it, Kelly,” Annie warned.

“Look, just because Carmen is…” Kelly was cut off when Annie shot her a look.

“Pardon?” Tom asked. “Did I miss something?”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Carmen said, shaking her head. She offered Tom a rueful smile.

“It’s just a shame,” Kelly said. “You being Carmen’s big celebrity crush for so long. And here you are at last!” She smirked. “At her bachelorette party.”

“Oh.” Tom sort of coughed, sort of laughed nervously. The bubble that had popped in his belly was now replaced by a weight. It felt as big and as heavy as his snow globe. He looked at Carmen again, felt pained at the embarrassed look at her face. But felt worse when he remembered the flutter from before. When he first saw her and found himself recognizing a perfect stranger. He smiled. “He’s a lucky man, your fiance.”

“Yeah,” Carmen said. “Which, I guess, makes me a lucky girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not super happy with how this one ends but I guess I can always rewrite it in another fic if I'm up to it. :)


End file.
